


Flame Calls To Flame

by she_who_recs



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: "flew too close to the sun and burned" is a pretty good metaphor for Feanor's career, (not sure if this actually counts as wingfic?), AU, B2MEM, B2MEM 2019, Crossover, Feanor is both Icarus and Daedalus, Gen, Greek Mythology - Freeform, fusion fic, prompt: wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 14:42:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18317339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/she_who_recs/pseuds/she_who_recs
Summary: Feanor crashes and burns (not necessarily in that order). Crossover with Greek mythology.





	Flame Calls To Flame

**Author's Note:**

> More-or-less based on Ovid's _Metamorphoses_. I used the translation found [here](http://ovid.lib.virginia.edu/trans/Metamorph8.htm).

Oh, to have seen the Undying Lands in the youth of the world! Here dwelt the gods in their splendor, and all manner of creatures fair and strange. Fairest of all were the Elvenfolk, laughing lords of light and majesty. Foremost among them was Feanor, whose name means Heart-of-Fire, for within his breast burned a flame perilous and grand. Renowned was he in even in that realm of unearthly marvels! He wrought wondrous stones of far-seeing and forged the Hundred Bells of the City of Gods; he lured down a star from the heavens and imprisoned it in living crystal.

But alas! the accursed Titan Morgoth, ever jealous, slew Feanor’s father and stole his star-crystal and laughing fled over the Sea on wings of darkness. And Feanor went before the gods and said, “My father lies dead and my heart’s work stolen, by your foe and mine. Make me a path to land and I will take my vengeance for us both.” But the gods, angered at his arrogance, refused him.

And Feanor turned to the Sea-elves, who he knew of old, and said, “My father lies dead and my heart’s work stolen. Lend me your ships, that I may take my vengeance.” But the Sea-elves, unwilling to gainsay the gods, refused him also.

Then in his madness and grief Feanor went down to the Havens of the Sea-elves and slew the great swans that dwelt there. Returning then to his forge, he laid out the still-bloody feathers and cunningly worked them into frames of true-silver and spoke over them magical words of the Elventongue. Eight sets of wings he made, one for himself and one for each of his seven sons.

And Feanor brought his sons to the water’s edge and showed them how to balance their bodies between the wings and hover in the air. And he said, “Take the course that I will show you; follow the Sun and she will not lead us astray,” for in those days the Sun would arise in the West and travel Eastwards. And father and sons took off into the sky, like a mother bird guiding her fledglings out of the nest.

But as they came too near to the Sun, the youths began to falter, becoming faint from the heat. And they fell back and begged their father as well to keep his distance. But Feanor laughed. “I am the Heart-of-Fire, and I fear no flame.” Delighting in his daring flight, he flew ever closer to the Sun’s blazing chariot.

As the Mortal Lands came within sight, Feanor drew even with the Sun. But though his flesh remained unburned, for indeed his blazing heart needed fear no lesser fire, his wings were of mere metal. As he reached out to touch the Sun’s chariot, the true-silver softened and melted. With a cry, Feanor fell from the sky, his flame extinguished by the dark ocean.

His sons cried, “Father! Father, where are you?” “Father,” they called again. Then they caught sight of scorched feathers on the waves and wept. They laid his body to rest, there on the Eastern shore, and swore thenceforth to uphold his vengeance.


End file.
